Kids Say the Darndest Things
by SamRosinenbomber
Summary: A series of vignettes in which Hogan and Newkirk learn that kid-raising is just as hard - if not harder - than international espionage work. (Especially when you don't know what you're doing...)
1. Chapter 1

This vignette (hopefully the first in a series) is set when it has been determined that the guys are keeping Lizzy, but really haven't gotten used to her yet.

x

x

x

Although Hogan had been in the confines of Stalag 13 for the D-Day invasion, he'd later seen footage of the preparation. Endless lines of cargo ships ready to make a move on Hitler's Fortress Europe, the sky blackened with aircraft…

This is what had been necessary to help win the war; that much transportation was apparently also what was needed when preparing one's house to accommodate a single 20 pound toddler, Hogan mused.

As he struggled under the weight of all the items Lucy Carter had deemed necessary for raising a child, he'd kept quiet. What could he possibly know about kids that she, mother of three (one on the way) didn't? But, as Lucy added another item, he finally decided to speak up.

"Are you sure we're going to need a _bath thermometer_? Can't Newkirk just stick her in and if she screams, we'll know it's too hot?"

The look on Lucy's face was a very clear _no_ , so he shut up and continued to follow her through the Cleveland Department store.

Hogan never really thought he'd find himself in the baby section of this store, but there were a lot of things he had been doing in the last few days that he had never considered before, mainly because a few days ago his friend and house mate Newkirk had decided to keep the admittedly cute toddler that had wandered into their yard.

At first, Hogan had been completely against the idea. He still was, actually. Somewhat. But whatever his feelings, the kid was now permanently stationed in his house.

The first few days, he kind of avoided Lizzy. That got tough when his other friends learned about her, and subsequently wanted to see her.

Their reactions to the news had been mixed.

"A _kid_? You guys got _a kid_? Who'd you steal her from?" That had been Carter.

" _Mon dieu!_ I don't envy you, _mon Colonel_. Enjoy the sleepless nights." That had been LeBeau.

"Lot of responsibility you guys are taking on. Even more than running an espionage ring in Nazi Germany." That had been Kinch.

"You guys can't let a toddler eat fried chicken and sleep on a couch!" That had been Lucy, who, after seeing the way Hogan and Newkirk were caring for their new ward, took it upon herself to see that they had all the proper equipment to care for a young child.

That was how Hogan found himself trailing behind Mrs. Carter, arms full of items deemed necessary for kid-rearing.

"You guys will need a crib, one of the new kind that folds into a small bed. Lizzy will be more comfortable in that than the one she had, and it'll be easier when you make the transition to a big girl bed. That should be fairly soon; she'll be growing fast."

Alright, he understood that. Made sense, though he didn't see why Lizzy couldn't keep sleeping on the couch in the spare room. Newkirk had said she only fell off twice, but kids are springy, right?

Shopping for the kid was something Hogan hadn't even taken into consideration when Lizzy came into the picture. He figured, when he gave the subject any thought, that Newkirk could use the stuff Lizzy's mom had for her in her old house. Unfortunately for them, the kid-friendly items in Lizzy's old house were few and far between, not to mention old and in pretty poor shape.

His house had only come with one or two bowls and cups that looked sturdy enough for a young child, so Lucy added a set of soft plastic silverware with plates that had bunnies on them for Lizzy. The knives that came with the bunny stuff were ridiculously blunt, as Hogan was wont to point out when Lucy added them to his ever-growing armful.

"You expect her to cut her food _by herself_?" Lucy had said with a tone of voice that implied she was surprised Lizzy had survived as long as she had.

Hogan didn't question any more of Lucy's purchases.

x

x

x

It was with a full car and empty wallet that Hogan finally returned home to Huntingburg.

He struggled getting the bags out of the trunk of his car, and wondered for a moment why Newkirk wasn't the one who had to go on this ridiculous shopping trip, but then he remembered that if he hadn't been the one to go, he would have had to stay behind with Lizzy. Alone.

There were some challenges he wasn't ready for just yet.

Somehow, he managed to get everything they had bought that day into the house in one trip, because almost getting a hernia from carrying too much stuff was always better than having to make more than one trip from car to house.

He somehow managed to get the front door open with his foot, then promptly dumped everything on the floor in the kitchen.

Even completely winded from such a laborious task, Hogan's senses were still highly alert, and he heard Lizzy coming before he saw her.

The small figure bounded into the kitchen, clad in a yellow sundress that was a few sizes too big, but this fact did not seem to bother the girl. She stopped short when she saw Hogan standing there in the kitchen.

He noticed that even though she seemed comfortable around him when he'd first met her, Lizzy had been wary of his presence as of late. He suspected it might have something to do with the fact that she didn't see him too much, with him avoiding her and everything.

That had been the original plan: Newkirk wanted her, he could have her and she would stay out of Hogan's way. But the fact that she lived in the same house made that nearly impossible, as he was finding out.

The two stared at one another for a few moments, but Lizzy's curiosity at the contents of the boxes at Hogan's feet got the better of her shyness and she walked over to peek in.

Hogan watched as the little girl pulled out a box and opened it to reveal the bunny plates and silverware.

"I love bunnies," she remarked, closing the box and putting it back.

 _Operation so far successful…_

Next, she took out a soft blanket that had little happy looking birds on it.

"Love birds best," she said, tucking the blanket under her arm as she continued to peek through the bags.

Hogan also heard Newkirk's approach before he saw him.

"Lizzy? Are you hidin' in the washing machine again, because last time you got stuck and-"

Newkirk spotted the little girl before he could finish that sentence.

"There you are, Liz. Back from the supply run mission?" The last part of the question was aimed at Hogan.

Hogan nodded, watching as Lizzy turned to Newkirk and held up the bird blanket.

"See the birds, daddy?" She pointed to the box on the floor, "also bunnies."

"Very nice, Liz," said Newkirk, squatting down to be closer to her level and taking a look in the bags.

Since when had she started calling Newkirk that? Hogan felt a twinge of unexpected guilt that he couldn't pinpoint exactly when Lizzy had gotten so attached to Newkirk, but, if he was brutally honest with himself, he also kind of felt bad he hadn't spent enough time around her to pick up a similar fond term.

Darn kids and their sentimentality.

"So...want to put her crib...bed...thing together?" asked Hogan, gesturing to one of the many boxes in the pile.

Newkirk looked up. "'Put together'?"

"Yeah," said Hogan, picking up the box of the crib thingy and putting it on the table. He opened it to reveal what appeared to be thousands of tiny pieces of what hopefully would be a bed when it was done.

"The box says 'some assembly required.' How hard can that be?"


	2. Chapter 2

_Ah, coffee._

Real, un-watered down coffee was something Hogan had learned to never take for granted after his time in Stalag 13, and it was the perfect morning to sit around and enjoy it.

The sun was shining cheerily through the kitchen window, lighting up the thin muslin curtains softly. He could hear birds chirping outside, and through the screen door he could see a pair of robins hopping merrily around the lawn, searching for worms for breakfast.

He had been up late last night reviewing the budget for the Policeman's Charity Ball, which he found to be a complete mess from the last sheriff that had been in charge of it. Hogan had managed to straighten it out fairly easily once he'd deciphered all the little notes that the former Sheriff LaFever had left all over the ledger - he had never imagined that he would need to use his code cracking skills from the military academy here, of all places.

Other than that, he was pleased with what he had accomplished, and had been able to cut down the expenses by replacing "Higgins and His Singing Cow _(Performing 'Wiener Blut' Operetta)"_ with the local youth drama club as the scheduled entertainment.

Mid coffee-sip, Hogan heard footsteps coming down the stairs leading to the kitchen. He could tell it was Newkirk, since the footfalls were too heavy to belong to Lizzy.

A few moments later, Hogan's deducing skills were proven correct by the appearance of his English friend.

"Good mornin' sir," Newkirk greeted, a large, unnatural smile on his face.

"Morning," replied Hogan, setting his coffee cup down warily.

"A fine day, isn't it, sir? How are you?"

"Alright, Newkirk, what do you want?"

"Want? What makes you think I want something from you, sir?"

"It's way too early for you to be this pleasant. Plus, you keep calling me 'sir.' What's up?"

"Nothing. I was just wondering...what do you happen to 'ave planned today?" Newkirk asked.

"Nothing. That's my plan," replied Hogan, taking another sip of coffee.

"Good, so you're free."

"Yes. Free to do nothing. I haven't had a day off since...1939," mused Hogan. "It'll be strange, doing nothing, but I think I'll be able to handle it for one day just fine."

"Now you're making me feel guilty asking you to watch Lizzy," said Newkirk with a wry smile.

"What?! Why?"

"Only for an hour...maybe two. I'm picking me sister Mavis up from the airport in Cleveland. She...she's coming to the states for a visit. Been plannin' it for almost a month."

"What?! Why? When were you planning on telling me this?"

"Oh, I don't know, maybe about an hour after she got here?"

"Newkirk…."

"Oh, come off it, sir. She won't be any trouble. I promise," Newkirk assured.

Hogan hesitated.

"What about Lizzy?"

"Well," said Newkirk with a smile, "I can't promise anything similar with her."

x

x

x

"So...do you happen to have any plans for today?"

Hogan's question was posed from the safe vantage point of the hallway just outside Lizzy's door, where the little girl in question was having a tea party with a motley crew of dolls and what appeared to be a garden gnome from the neighbor's lawn.

Lizzy shook her head, and poured the gnome some imaginary tea.

"Alright, then I guess I'll-"

"Sit with me," said Lizzy, pointing to the spot on the rug next to her.

Hogan, never one to disobey a direct order, sat down next to the small girl.

"Want some tea, sir?" she asked, getting him a mismatched cup and saucer.

"Oh, yeah, sure."

He accepted his imaginary tea with grace, and watched as all of the inanimate tea party guests received their tea ration as well.

"So...is that the lawn gnome from the Stephenson's yard?" asked Hogan, gesturing to the party guest at his left.

"Yes, sir."

"Oh. Do they want it back?"

"No, sir. They know he's here."

"Oh, well, that's good. As long as they're not worried about his whereabouts…"

This statement struck Lizzy as extremely funny, and she demonstrated her amusement with a flurry of girlish giggles, a sound that made Hogan's chest feel a little funny. Nothing bad, just...funny.

"What are everyone's names?" he asked, after her spate of laughter had died down.

"This is Mrs. Smelly ," said Lizzy, pointing to a worn ragdoll on the other side of Hogan.

"Charmed."

"And this is Mr. Hambone, Barry, Dolly, Fluff, Daisy, Miss Pea, and Edward Stephenson," said Lizzy, introducing all of her tea party guests in counterclockwise order, ending with the gnome.

"And _I'm_ Lizzy, and _you're_ sir!" she concluded, pointed to herself and then Hogan and letting out another giggle.

Sir.

Was this was he was destined to be called the rest of his life by this little girl? A cold, formal term of respect, one he'd heard plenty during the war.

Lizzy was currently humming something to herself, a tune that Hogan didn't recognize, as she added more imaginary sugar to her imaginary tea, giving him a moment to think.

"Lizzy?"

She looked up.

 _High risk assignment I'm taking on here…_

"You know...you can call me 'dad' too, if you want."

Lizzy didn't reply; she was staring off to the side of her room, a funny expression on her face.

"Lizzy? What do you think about that?"

As if to answer his question, the little girl promptly threw up on him.

x

x

x

The drive to and from Cleveland was usually a traffic nightmare, but Newkirk was enjoying himself on this particular trip back.

His older sister, Mavis, was currently in the passenger seat, having just arrived in the States from England, and she had wasted no time in catching him up on everything that had been going on with their family and friends since he'd left.

"An' old Mrs. Keene, you remember 'er, the one who used to hang 'er laundry on our line, she got remarried to an American on leave, but Mum thinks it was a mite too quick. And Miss Clarke, from a few floors down, she got married also. She married 'erself a French officer, she did. They 'ad two little ones last time I saw them."

"How's your kids, Mave?" he asked, when he could get a word in.

"Oh, they're swell. Charlie's thinkin' of goin' to school for automobile repair, and little Evelyn, well, she ain't as little as she used to be. Grown up, she did."

Newkirk had always been extremely thankful that his whole family had survived the war at home, but the more he talked to Mavis the more he could read between the lines that their quality of life hadn't bounced back as quickly as those of people living in the States.

Nonetheless, she seemed very happy, and he wasn't going to bring up anything that might upset her when she was clearly very pleased at how everything had resolved itself and how everyone had made it through the war intact.

"An' what about you, Peter? Any wife for you yet?" Mavis asked as they grew closer to Huntingburg.

"No."

"Shame. Guess I won't be gettin' any nieces or nephews from you any time soon, then."

"I do have a daughter, though."

"Peter!" shrieked Mavis, with a tone that implied that if he was guilty of what her tone implied, he was about to become a very unhappy man.

"Calm down," he laughed good-naturedly, "she'd adopted."

Even after Newkirk's lengthy explanation of how he had suddenly acquired Lizzy, Mavis' expression was still rather thunderstruck.

"An' you're thinkin' you can do it by yourself, then?" she asked.

"Well...no. I got Colonel Hogan to 'elp out, you know. He's watchin' 'er right now, actually."

"Colonel Hogan?"

"Yeah. You didn't think I could afford to live in this country in me own house if I wasn't sharin' it. Sides, he's been good with Lizzy."

Mavis was silent for a little while before she finally spoke again.

"I don't envy that kid."

x

x

x

When Newkirk and Mavis arrived at his house, they each took one of her suitcases and made their way to the front door.

"Nice place," Mavis remarked as he opened the door.

"Thanks," he replied absently, looking around to see where Hogan and Lizzy might be. He'd never left Hogan alone in charge of her before - hopefully nothing had gone wrong.

"Lizzy?" he called out.

No answer - but he did hear a noise on the stairs.

To his surprise, it was a very flustered looking Hogan who answered his call, coming down the stairs two at a time.

"Newkirk, something's wrong with Lizzy," he said, not even stopping to acknowledge Mavis' presence.

Without hesitation, the two siblings that had just arrived followed Hogan back up the stairs to the little room that Lizzy was in. Sure enough, she was laying on her happy ducky bedspread looking quite ill at ease.

"Liz, what's wrong?" Newkirk asked, kneeling down next to her bed.

"I don't feel good, daddy," she said softly.

"What happened?" asked Mavis, her question directed at Hogan.

"She was fine, then she just threw up all of a sudden."

"What's she been eating?"

"Uh…"

"She had cereal for breakfast this morning," said Newkirk. "What'd you give 'er for lunch?" he asked Hogan.

"Lunch?"

"You did feed the poor kid, didn't you?" asked Mavis, who reached over to feel Lizzy's forehead with the back of her hand.

"I offered, but she wasn't hungry," said Hogan, hoping that one missed meal didn't mean imminent starvation for the kid.

Mavis didn't reply; she gently motioned for Lizzy to open her mouth, which the little girl did compliantly. Mavis then peered into her eyes, gently tilting Lizzy's head up to get a better look.

"Looks like the poor thing is comin' down with the measles," was her conclusion.

"Measles?" replied Newkirk, with an expression similar to one he might have worn had Mavis told him Lizzy had contracted the Black Plague.

"Yeah. Her eyes look a bit pink, an' she got the beginnin' of spots in 'er mouth. She'll probably have that fever for about four days," said Mavis, obviously speaking from experience with her own children.

"What do we do?" asked Newkirk, looking down at the little girl.

"Make sure she gets plenty of rest, an' give 'er lots of water and juice," said Mavis, getting Lizzy's happy birdie blankie off the nightstand and gently laying it on the now-sleeping girl.

"That's it?" asked Hogan, feeling a little helpless.

"Yes. Let's go downstairs and see if you two hopeless blighters 'ave anything in the icebox I can give her."

x

x

x

Even though Lizzy was currently sleeping peacefully, Hogan couldn't help but wonder what it would be like over the next few days - Mavis had said that she'd be sick for a little while, and he was beyond thankful to have the woman there for this.

If she hadn't been around, they probably would have had to call Lucy Carter over to see what she thought, but Hogan liked to keep that option as a last resort, mainly because of the amount of times they'd already bothered her, and especially because it had only been four days since she'd helped with the cereal-stuck-in-the-nose incident. He didn't want the woman to think they were completely helpless.

Hogan had learned plenty of ways to deal with sick men when he was in the Army Air Corps, but he really didn't think that putting a splint or tourniquet on Lizzy right now would really do much to help her.

He was currently standing outside her door, leaning against the doorframe, watching as she mumbled something in her sleep. Suddenly, her eyes popped open and landed on the figure in the doorway.

"Thirsty," was all she said.

Hogan carefully crept into the darkened room and retrieved the glass of water Mavis had left on the little girl's nightstand. Gently, he sat down on the edge of the bed and handed her the glass, which she took a few sips of before handing it back to him.

He stayed there a little longer, watching as she laid back and started to drift off again. Slowly, he got off the bed, and, will all the silence of someone sneaking into an office to steal secret paperwork, made his way back to the door.

He heard her make a small noise, so he turned to see if she'd woken up again.

"Goodnight, dad."

Hogan looked to see if Newkirk had come in the room behind him, but the Englishman was not there, so Lizzy must be addressing him.

His chest did that funny thing again.


	3. Chapter 3

There wasn't anything Hogan liked better than sitting on his porch, relaxing with his dog and a glass of something cold, but today he was thinking of swearing off the porch for good. It must be jinxed or something; every time he sat down and got comfortable, something ranging from mundane, like the telephone ringing, to catastrophic would occur.

This time appeared to be the latter situation, Hogan mused in the back of his mind, as he ran up the stairs of his house.

He heard the shrill, piercing scream that had startled him off his porch swing shatter the silence once more, but the sound was louder now that he was getting closer to Lizzy's room.

They'd learned a few weeks ago that Lizzy, while very small and not very threatening, had a scream that was louder than a fire whistle when she got upset. The first time they'd heard it had been when a certain stuffed bunny of hers was unable to be found before it was time for lights-out. They had also learned that Lizzy was indeed smarter than they gave her credit for, as she would not accept a squash with ears drawn on it as a substitute.

Opening the door to her room, Hogan was greeted with a strange sight: Lizzy was sitting on her bed, her curly red hair sticking up at all angles, making it look like she had stuck her finger in an electrical outlet. For a few moments, he hoped that this hadn't been the case.

What was more concerning, however, was that Lizzy's usually happy face was flushed and streaked with tears. Newkirk, who was standing behind her with what looked like the dog's flea comb, looked like he was a few minutes from waterworks himself.

"What in the world is going on in here?"

"Lizzy...she got honey in 'er hair," said Newkirk, putting down the flea comb. "I tried to wash it out, but nothing's working!"

"How did this happen?" asked Hogan, feeling a sudden longing for the peace and quiet of Stalag 13.

"I don't know. She wanted some on her toast, I turned around, and…"

"Don't you know never to turn your back on the enemy?" said Hogan, only partly kidding. He made his way closer to the other side of Lizzy's bed to get a better look at her tangled mass of hair.

Hogan held out his hand for Newkirk to give him the comb, then, like someone sneaking up on a live bomb, gingerly grabbed a lock of sticky hair and tried his hand at gently, ever so gently, teasing the strands apart…

Lizzy let out a scream that he was certain could be heard across several time zones.

x

x

x

 _ **Riiiing.**_

"Hello?"

"Hello, Carter? Is that you?"

"Yeah, it's me. Who's this?"

"Your mother. Come on, Andrew, it's me."

"Newkirk?"

"Yes."

"Oh, hey, buddy, how you been?"

"Oh, fine. Not much changed since I saw you yesterday, you know."

"Do you want me to put Lucy on the telephone?"

"...Yes."

x

x

x

"There, that should do it," proclaimed Lucy Carter, rinsing the last of the soap out of Lizzy's hair. A soaking in olive oil, hot water, and a thorough shampooing later, Lizzy's honeyed hair was free of its stickiness.

"It probably hurt her more because she had some tangles in her hair," she continued, reaching for a towel to dry the little girl off. "How often do your brush her hair?"

"Once or twice a week," answered Newkirk, looking like he desperately hoped that would be the right answer. "I don't like to do it often...she really hates it, you know."

"That's because it hurts because you don't do it often enough," replied Lucy, helping Lizzy off the kitchen counter where she had been seated for her emergency honey removal bath.

"I'll do it everyday, then."

"Good," said Lucy, smiling. "And you've been remembering to brush her teeth?"

"Yes."

"Twice a day?"

"That's right."

"Good. You're really getting the hang of it. Before you know it, you'll only be frantically calling my house once a week."

x

x

x

"And then Bruno found a bird that looked like it might have been the kind that don't fly, but we went up to it and it flew away, so it could fly. I found a pebble that's shaped like a heart, too. It was next to a stone that looked like a potato but I left that one because a lot of the rocks look like potatoes. Why don't birds have eyebrows?"

"I don't even know why humans have eyebrows."

"Oh. Well, I think eyebrows are there so when you're sleeping and you have to scratch your forehead you can feel the eyebrows and that's how you know not to go any further because you'd scratch your eyes, and birds don't have hands so they don't have to worry about scratching their eyes. That's why they don't have eyebrows."

The jinx on the porch didn't matter now, Hogan thought, as he sat on Lizzy's bed brushing her hair - he had found something better. He and Newkirk took turns with brushing it now; Newkirk did it in the morning, and Hogan did it at night, both of them not wanting a repeat of the Honey Incident any time soon.

He liked that, when he brushed Lizzy's hair, she always regaled him with a commentary of her day, which was always interspersed with her funny musings and questions. He was always pleasantly surprised with how insightful she was for such a little kid.

She might require more maintenance than a B-17, he thought, but as the days went by, it was starting to not feel quite so much like work anymore.


	4. Chapter 4

"Can I help you with something, sir?"

"Huh?"

"Do you require any assistance, sir? I notice you've been standing here for twenty minutes."

Newkirk heaved a sigh - he understood why the sales lady probably considered him insane. This was the third store he'd been in today, and by now he'd looked at so many toys and frilly pink things whilst shopping for Lizzy's 4th birthday that if he saw another baby doll in the next fifty years, it would be too soon.

"Oh, no, just...yeah, maybe I do need help."

"Are you shopping for yourself or for someone else?" the helpful sales lady asked, which Newkirk probably could have taken as an insult, considering he was currently looking at ballerina costumes.

"Someone else," he supplied helpfully.

"Boy or girl?"

"Girl."

"How old?"

"Turning four."

"Are you looking for a birthday present, sir?"

"Yes."

"Is she your niece?"

"No."

"Cousin?"

"No."

"...Granddaughter?"

"Do I look that bloody old to you? It's for my daughter."

"Oh," replied the helpful sales lady, "Sorry. We don't get many fathers in here shopping for their daughters. Usually their mothers do that."

"Well, what do the mothers usually buy?"

"This year Perky the Pup and his Squeezable Pals are popular," said the helpful sales lady, turning his attention to a display of soft plastic animals.

"Nah, she's got loads of toy animals."

"Perhaps a Tootsie Toy dollhouse?"

"I...I don't know. Maybe?"

"We also offer a large selection of baby dolls."

"..."

"A play kitchen, perhaps?"

Ugh, what kind of a parent was he that he couldn't pick one miserable gift for his kid? Did other parents have this problem? His mind flashed back to the helpful sales lady's comment about mothers doing the shopping for their daughters, and, not for the first time, he wondered if Lizzy's mother would have instinctively known what to do; know what to get that would show how much Lizzy meant and how special she was, something that truly fit her personality.

He tried to think of all the things Lizzy liked - birds, bunnies, tea parties, not taking naps…

"I can see you need more time to decide. Let me or another associate know if we can assist you," said the helpful sales lady, slinking back to the register and leaving him alone with his thoughts.

He knew Lizzy better than anyone; out of all people he should find it easiest to get her a present, right? Though, Newkirk had been questioning how well he knew her lately; the other day Hogan informed him that she had a habit of waking up around midnight and sitting by the kitchen door as though she was waiting for something.

It was only after a conversation with one of the neighbors did they learn that Lizzy's father had often come home from a late shift at the factory at 12:30 at night.

To him, that had almost been as sad as the time she had come into his bedroom in the middle of the night to make sure he "hadn't left her like mommy did" before wordlessly shuffling back to her room.

Hogan later informed him that she had done this to him a few times as well; it had tapered off and stopped after a little while.

Newkirk tried to steer his thoughts away from the increasingly sad topic his brain had suddenly chosen to dwell on, and tried to think of what Lizzy had been up to lately. He'd seen her reading the telephone directory the other day (albeit upside-down) and wondered if he should get her a book that would help her start learning to read, but none of the kid's books he looked at seemed like anything she would like. Plus, it really didn't seem special enough.

He considered the baby dolls for a little while; Lizzy loved taking care of things. All her stuffed toys were always tucked in their toy bed at bedtime, and whenever Bruno wasn't on duty with Hogan, the little girl lavished attention on the large, impassive shepard.

Suddenly, he had the perfect idea for what to get Lizzy, and it wasn't something he was going to find in a department store.

x

x

x

"No way. I draw the line at cats."

"Aw, you're not sayin' no to a tiny little kitten now, are you?"

"Yes, I am saying no. Don't make me make that an order."

"Why not?"

"Well...I might be allergic."

"Are you?"

"No, but I could be."

"You're not allergic to Bruno," Newkirk pointed out helpfully.

"That brings up another point; Bruno probably wouldn't like having a kitten around here," said Hogan.

"Bruno gets along with the Stephensons' two cats," Newkirk added.

"Lizzy's too young to take care of a kitten," Hogan countered.

"I'd 'elp, you know that. Be a good learnin' experience for her, taking care of 'er own animal."

Hogan appeared to consider this for a moment before speaking.

"Alright. On one condition."

"What?"

"I never have to clean the cat box. Ever."

x

x

x

"That is _not_ a kitten," Hogan exclaimed as Newkirk brought the newest edition of their household in from his car.

"It used to be one, sir," he said cheekily, sitting down on one of the kitchen chairs.

What Newkirk had, in fact, was the largest, hairiest, monstrosity of a cat he had ever seen in his entire life. If he had seen that thing back during the war, he would have mistaken it for a poorly camouflaged panzer.

"Where on earth did you find that thing? Behind a nuclear waste dump?"

"No. At the pound."

"What, were they out of kittens? Or did this thing eat all the kittens they had there?"

"They had lots of kittens there, but they were goin' like hotcakes. They were goin' to destroy this fella, an' I just felt bad for 'im. He's a real sweet cat. I think Lizzy'll love 'im."

"If he doesn't eat her first. It's practically as big as she is," Hogan observed. This whole time, the large cat had been complacently lounging in Newkirk's arms, its long, thick tail flicking back and forth like a pendulum.

Hogan took in the details of the enormous cat; it had a tabby pattern, and its tufted ears reminded him of a bobcat. He almost would have thought that's what the animal was if it hadn't been for its long, bushy raccoon-like tail.

"Well?" Newkirk prompted, after Hogan had had his fill of staring down the cat.

"Fine, but if you find it chewing on your leg one night, don't say I didn't warn you."

x

x

x

"Alright, Lizzy, blow out the candles and make a wish!" said LeBeau, placing a large, pink frosted cake in front of the little girl. He was glad that his friends had thought to have her birthday party at his restaurant - Lizzy was such a cute kid, even cuter when she was happy.

Lizzy closed her eyes and looked thoughtful for a few seconds before letting out a big breath, causing the flames to go out on all four candles that were arranged on the cake.

As LeBeau pulled the cake back towards himself to cut it and put on plates, he overheard his two friends whispering about the present he knew was awaiting Lizzy at home.

"Where did you put it?" he heard Hogan whisper.

"In 'er room. Door's closed," replied Newkirk, also in a whisper.

"What if it chews through the door, you know, like a beaver? It could be menacing the whole house."

"Don't be ridiculous. It didn't do anything like that when we stashed it at Kinch's place. Plus, I put a chair in front of the door just in case."

x

x

x

"I was going to wish for a boat made of licorice, but then it would get eaten by sharks so I thought of wishing for a big stick too, you know, to keep the shark away, but I wished that I could be able to lick my elbow instead. Dad, can you lick your elbow?"

"I've never tried," replied Hogan, thoroughly amused at Lizzy's lengthy explanation to his simple question of asked what she'd wished for when she blew out her candles.

"Why not?" she asked.

"Well...it never occurred to me. I'll try it tomorrow."

Lizzy seemed satisfied with his answer, and was quiet for the rest of their short trip, save for her humming. They had both noticed that she frequently hummed whenever she was content; it was always the same tune, but neither of them could identify it.

As soon as Hogan turned the station wagon into the driveway and shut off the motor, Lizzy had opened her door and hopped out, standing by the vehicle's trunk. They had stashed all her presents that she had received from their friends in there, and she was understandably eager to bring her new things up to her room and start playing with them.

Hogan's anxiety over whether or not Lizzy would like the miniature lion waiting in her room had been slightly mollified by how happy all of Lizzy's other presents had made her. At least he knew she wasn't a picky kid when it came to opening gifts. The thought crossed his mind that she might not be the same with gifts that pounced on her, but he quickly pushed it out of his mind.

He opened the trunk and handed Lizzy the lightest thing inside: the artfully crafted set of doll clothes that Kinch's wife had made for her. Newkirk took out the new tea set from Carter and Lucy, as well as the box of carved wooden play food that LeBeau and Violet had given her.

Lizzy bounded ahead of them and waited at the door for Hogan to unlock it before darting inside.

Newkirk came in a second after her and placed her other gifts on the kitchen table.

"Lizzy, wait here. There's one more gift," he said.

"In the car?" the little girl asked, expression a mix between confusion and excitement at the prospect of another present.

"No, love. In your room. From us. Why don't you go take a look?" Newkirk suggested.

Lizzy was off and up the stairs like a shot; as they followed her they heard the scraping of a chair across wooden floor, which indicated that she had not been deterred by the chair that had been put against her door, but also that the enormous feline in her room had likely not escaped.

Hogan and Newkirk made it to the top of the stairs as she was opening her door. As soon as it was open, the large cat strolled out, pleased to be allowed to roam again.

"A kitty!" she exclaimed, bending down to pet it.

The cat began to purr robustly, giving up its plan to wander the house in favor of having its head scratched by the little girl.

"He's yours, Lizzy," said Hogan with a smile.

"What's he called?" she asked, not taking her eyes of the cat, which had now flopped down to offer up its belly for scratching.

"Whatever you want to call him. He's yours to name," said Newkirk, thrilled that the cat had taken a liking to Lizzy, and she to it.

"What does he look like?" she asked, sitting down to get a better petting angle.

"He looks kind of like ol' Schultzie, weight wise," remarked Newkirk offhandedly.

The name sticks.

x

x

x

Lizzy immediately becomes Schultzie's favorite human, which makes Hogan happy because the feline mostly leaves him alone.

Newkirk, on the other hand, liked the cat's occasional company, and was satisfied with being Schultzie's second favorite. Mostly, he likes that Schultzie sleeps with Lizzy at night. They had a routine; as soon as she got into bed, the cat would sit near her pillow while a bedtime story was read. When it was time for lights out, Schultzie crept down to the foot of her bed and curled up.

Although they hadn't had an issue with Lizzy getting up in the middle of the night anymore, he was glad she had the cat there with her if she did happen to wake up. If she did, he knew she would see her gentle friend and not feel alone.

He thought it was a remarkable irony; Schultzie kept vigilant guard on Lizzy while she slept, much as the animal's namesake had done to them during the war.

And, as far as he knew, the cat had never once abandoned his post for strudel.


	5. Chapter 5

Newkirk hadn't been this nervous since he'd waited for the guys to come back from a sabotage mission.

True, the task at hand was no where near as dangerous, but he was troubled nonetheless. All day at the station he hadn't been able to concentrate on anything, not even the large stack of money that had landed on his desk. He was supposed to be checking to see if they were counterfeit (he suspected they were) but there was only one topic his brain wanted to dwell on.

This morning Lizzy had left for her first day of school.

The Huntingburg school was nothing big, and the scariest thing that had ever occurred in the history of that particular institution was that a turkey had somehow gotten inside and left evidence of its brief occupation on a few desks.

He really didn't have any reason to worry about the school. He knew she would get there safely - the school wasn't all that far from their street, and Lizzy had been in excellent company for the short walk there.

Their neighbors, the Stephensons, had two daughters, Inez and Ida, who had walked her the two blocks there. Ida was four, just like Lizzy, so he figured they would be in the same class. He hoped anyway; it would be good for Lizzy to have someone familiar around her on her first day of school. Inez was going into the eighth grade, so the two younger girls at least had someone responsible with them.

Either way, this was one mission he was anxious to know the outcome of.

x

x

x

Seated strategically so he could see out the kitchen window, Newkirk glanced to the clock on the wall for what felt like the thousandth time. Lizzy was supposed to be home any minute now, and the longer he waited for her, the more crazed the scenarios in his mind of how her first day went became.

Eventually, the three girls came into view, and, thankfully, they all appeared to be in one piece.

He watched as Lizzy waved goodbye to Ida and Inez, who continued down the street to their house. He watched her skip up the driveway and heard her yank open the kitchen door.

Her cheerful face appeared before him, and that alone was enough to fill him with relief.

"Lizzy, sweetheart, 'ow was your day? Did you like school?" he asked.

"It was a lot of fun, daddy! We made colorful pictures and I sit next to Ida!" she informed him, hopping up on to the chair next to his.

"That's great, Liz. Anything else interesting?"

"This is from my teacher, Miss Wilson," said Lizzy, fishing around in the small pocket of her dress and producing a folded piece of paper that she presented to him.

"What's this?" Newkirk asked, starting to unfold the paper.

Lizzy shrugged her shoulders, and before he could question the little girl any further, she suddenly scampered off after Schultzie, who had sauntered into the room earlier, grew bored, and was now sauntering off.

Newkirk shook his head fondly as he watched her run off, then looked down to read the paper in his hand.

 _To the parents of Lizzy Newkirk -_

 _I would like to inform you that today your daughter said something that cannot be accepted in a classroom setting. During a class activity in which the children were asked to paint dried macaroni noodles for a craft project, your daughter asked me "why the bloody hell" we were painting macaroni._

 _I do not believe she said this with any mischievous intentions, and for this reason I didn't speak to her in class. Instead, I am sending her home with this note. Lizzy is a delightful child, and very bright, and I believe that if she has picked up this colorful phrase from a family member that you will correct it._

 _Regards,_

 _Miss Mina Wilson_

Newkirk's thought process at that moment definitely included some words that Miss Mina Wilson would not approve of in a classroom setting.

x

x

x

"She said that?"

"Yes."

"To her teacher?"

"Yes."

"And she sent home a note?"

"Yes! And stop laughing!"

Hogan could no longer hold in his mirth; he wished he could have been there to see the look on the teacher's face when one of her small, innocent pupils let out that particular English phrase.

"Oh, come on. She could have said something much worse. I would have asked the same thing if someone wanted me to paint macaroni," said Hogan, still amused.

"This isn't about the role of macaroni in Lizzy's education," said Newkirk seriously, though he was starting to see some of the humor in the situation.

"No, I know what this is about," said Hogan, sobering a bit. "We need to start watching what we say around her. She's more impressionable than we think."

"Exactly."

"And we'll start right away. No more barracks language."

"Right."

"I think everyone picks up some colorful language in the military. Once you're out, it starts wearing off after a while. I haven't heard any of the other guys say anything bad lately," remarked Hogan.

"But Carter sure did look like he was going to make up for lost time when Lucy told 'im she was havin' another kid," said Newkirk with a chuckle.

"Nah, he's happy about that. I was kidding around with him the other day - I told him doctors have finally figured out what causes that," said Hogan with a smile.

"What did Andrew say to that?"

"I didn't hear it - I was laughing too hard at the look on his face."

x

x

x

"Lizzy?"

"Yes, daddy?"

"I heard you guys made macaroni necklaces at school today," said Newkirk, lowering himself onto the floor next to where Lizzy was seated with her usual tea party guests.

"Yes. I painted mine green," said the little girl, pouring some imaginary tea in the cup in front of Schultzie, who was currently asleep next to her.

"That's nice. Uh...did you like doing that?"

"It was fun. I liked coloring better."

"You didn't happen to...say anything about that to your teacher, did you?" Newkirk asked, feeling a little ridiculous.

"I don't know."

"Oh. Well...alright then...I'll...uh...leave you to your tea," said Newkirk.

"Stay with me," said Lizzy, handing him an empty cup.

"Alright, Liz," he said, taking his cup with a smile.

And with that, the matter was forgotten.

x

x

x

If there was one thing Hogan didn't get much enjoyment out of when it came to owning a house, it was all the repair work that came with it. Sure, he took plenty of pride in keeping it clean and well-maintained, but there was something about the constant little tasks that sometimes irked him, especially when he could be spending his time doing something else.

In particular, he really hated the front yard fence. It seemed like every day at least one of the wooden slats would fall off or become crooked, and it was getting to the point where the fence was becoming more nails than wood.

Today was no exception, and Hogan found himself once more being thwarted by a fence. He had one nail in, so the slat appeared to be firmly adhered to the fence, but Hogan wasn't going to let it outsmart him again. He was getting ready to put another nail in for extra good measure, and just as he raised the hammer to drive the second nail in, his attention was diverted by a sound from the porch.

"Dad!"

It was Lizzy, bounding out of the house with her ever present enthusiasm. Unfortunately, it was also at that moment that Hogan firmy brought down the hammer on his thumb.

"Ow, son of…."

Despite still being very much in pain, Hogan's mind still acknowledged the presence of a young and impressionable person, and he floundered in his agony to find a better adjective.

"...gonculator!"

Well, at least her teacher can't complain about that one, he thought.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N:** Hello! Look, I actually found some time to write! I always love hearing what you guys have to say, so I hope to keep hearing from everyone. The idea for this chapter was given to me by willwrite4fics, who also got me the marvelous cover art for this story, which was created by the very talented PeekAboo on DeviantArt.

x

" _To have a child is to decide forever to have your heart go walking around outside your body. "_

― _Elizabeth Stone_

x

x

x

"Ma'am, do you have any idea how fast you were going?"

"Not too fast, I hope."

"Well, you whizzed past my patrol car fast enough that I think I felt a sonic boom from when you broke the sound barrier."

"Oh. Is that bad?"

"Yes."

"Are you going to give me a ticket?"

"Yes. You didn't think I was writing a recipe for apple pie here, did you?"

"No. But I promise I won't speed again."

Hogan peered over his ticket pad at the woman sitting in the car he had just pulled over, and fought not to roll his eyes as she fluttered hers at him in what was probably supposed to be a fetching manner.

"Don't you believe me?" the woman asked, her previous statement having gotten no response.

"I do, but this is my insurance policy," he stated dryly, giving her the ticket.

"Are you sure you don't want to talk this over...maybe over a nice homemade dinner?" asked the woman, looking up at him through her eyelashes.

Hogan was tempted to make a face, but somewhere in the back of his mind he remembered his mother telling him it would stay like that if he kept doing it, so he fought the urge to grimace. This woman was by no means unattractive, but she was really starting to get on his nerves. It had been a long day, and he was in no mood for whatever this was, and he wanted to go home.

"You can pay that in cash or by check," he said finally.

"There's nothing I can do to change your mind?"

"Nope."

"...Are you married?"

It was not the first time in the police force that Hogan was suddenly thankful for his military background; in this case, he was glad he'd been trained to withstand even the most stalwart interrogator.

x

x

x

Hogan ended up taking his patrol car home. He was exhausted and he really didn't feel like driving back to the station and switching vehicles before heading home. He slowly made his way to the door, and was surprised to find that it wasn't locked.

He went in and hung up his hat and jacket - there didn't appear to be anyone home, which was strange. Newkirk and Lizzy were usually both home when he managed to get off in the evening.

"Hello?" he called out, walking into the living room.

He was surprised to find Newkirk in there, asleep, sprawled out on the sofa. Lizzy must have really worn him out today, he thought. Not wanted to wake his friend, he crept upstairs to see if Lizzy was taking a nap as well.

Upstairs, he saw that her door was open, but there was no Lizzy on the bed, which was rumpled slightly. There was no Schultzie, either, which he thought was strange. He checked his room - no Lizzy in there. There was no Lizzy in Newkirk's room either, or in any of the spare bedrooms, and she wasn't under any of the beds, because he made sure to check there too.

"Newkirk, wake up."

"Wha..what's goin' on?" asked Newkirk, sitting up groggily.

"Where's Lizzy?"

"She's asleep in 'er room, ain't she?"

"No. She's not in any of the rooms. I checked," said Hogan.

"Are you sure?" asked Newkirk, all traces of sleep disappearing from his face.

"Yeah, I checked everywhere."

"Even under the beds?" asked Newkirk. Lizzy had fallen asleep underneath her bed twice before - once when she was playing hide and seek and another time...because it had been so comfortable under there the first time, maybe. They really didn't know.

"Yeah, I checked under all of them," said Hogan, feeling a lump starting to rise in his throat.

Newkirk was off the couch in the blink of an eye, and in less than five minutes they had scoured the whole house as well as the entire back yard. They called her name, but there was no answer. After a little while, they both ended up in the living room again.

"Let's call around - she might have wandered across the street to Kinch's place," suggested Newkirk, fighting to suppress the panic that was welling up inside him.

The phone call to Kinch yielded no answer; neither he nor his wife had seen her since she came home from school that day, so Hogan called the Stephensons, the next closest people Lizzy knew.

Mrs. Stephenson from next door could only assure him that Lizzy had indeed come home from school with Ida and Inez, but that was the last they had seen her.

Their next phone call was to Carter's family.

"No, Lizzy's not here," said Lucy, who had answered the phone. "When did you last see her?"

"She came home from school and we got tired out playin', so I set her down for a nap and then I fell asleep on the couch, and now she's not here! The door was unlocked, so she could be anywhere…" Newkirk informed her worriedly.

"I'll check with the neighbors and see if they've seen her," promised Lucy.

The call to LeBeau's family didn't yield any results either, which only served to heighten their panic. Having run out of people to call, they decided to drive to the police station and see if anyone there might know anything.

The drive to the Huntingburg Police Station only took about five minutes, but to Newkirk it felt like forever. He couldn't get his hands to stop shaking, and he was fighting to keep his breathing under control.

 _God, please, please, let her be alright. Please let nothing have happened to my little girl. Please let me find her, please, please…_

He only had to look over at Hogan to know that his thoughts were exactly the same.

x

x

x

There was no news to be found at the police station, which didn't make them feel any better, but at the same time, they hoped that maybe no news was good news. Officer Baxter had suggested they use Bruno to try and track down Lizzy, which, in their panic, they had not thought of.

The drive back home felt like it took forever as well, and with each passing moment Newkirk could feel his panic ratcheting up. Despite all the danger he and his friends had been in during the war, he found himself more worried than he had ever been in his entire life.

As soon as they got back to their house, they were both out of the car and heading for the front door.

Newkirk turned the doorknob and opened the front door, and to his amazement, Lizzy was standing there in front of him.

The waves of relief that flooded him were so great that he immediately dropped to his knees and hugged her as tight as he could without hurting her. He felt Hogan drop down next to him and stroke Lizzy's hair, as if checking to be sure it was really her and not a figment of his imagination.

"Lizzy, where were you?" Hogan asked - only the slight tremor in his voice betrayed how worried he'd been.

"I fell asleep in the clothes hamper," the little girl informed them. "The clothes were nice and warm from the dryer."

Newkirk didn't know if he wanted to laugh or cry.

x

x

x

Later that night, after Lizzy was asleep for the evening, they sat down at the kitchen table; coffee in front of Hogan, and tea in front of Newkirk, but neither of them had touched their drinks. They were still unwinding from the whirlwind day - but there seemed to be a silent understanding between them that this was likely not the first time that Lizzy would worry them to death.

It was a very sobering thought - today they had both solemnly realized that they were no longer the only solely in control of their personal happiness and wellbeing. What controlled that lived outside them now, in a small bundle sleeping in a pink nightgown.


	7. Chapter 7

"You know, Newkirk, I really don't think that's going to fit you."

"Very funny. This happens to be for Lizzy."

"Are you planning on making her a whole line of vegetable themed clothes?"

"No. Just the pumpkin."

The pumpkin in question was a small, fuzzy, felted orange outfit; its construction was not because of a fashion whim, though. A few days earlier the planned occupant of said pumpkin costume was sent home from school with a note informing all parents of an upcoming school pageant. This year's theme, it stated, was "Fall Harvest."

"Why is Lizzy the pumpkin?" asked Hogan, watching Newkirk as he finished stitching a green felt leaf on the side of the outfit.

"Dunno. Maybe 'cause she 'as red hair," he answered, not looking up.

"I wonder what the other veggie kids will be. I feel bad for whatever parent is making their kid a broccoli costume right now."

"Then you should feel bad for Mrs. Stephenson," said Newkirk, "Ida's the broccoli."

"Oh. Hey, do they have to say lines or anything?"

"Yeah. I think Lizzy's is something about jack-o-lanterns."

"This pageant is going to be a riot," said Hogan, his attention returning to the newspaper he had originally brought in the living room to read.

"Well, hopefully not literally," he amended after a few moments.

x

x

x

Hogan hadn't really kept tabs on the progression of Lizzy's pumpkin costume, but he was sure Newkirk was doing an admirable job with it. He did know that the other day Mrs. Stephenson had come over to borrow some green thread.

Apparently she was not having a very easy time outfitting Ida with a broccoli costume. He had even heard a rumor that she had tried to get Mrs. Belknap-Jackson from two blocks away to switch roles; her son was going to be the squash, but Hogan really didn't have the necessary intelligence to verify that fact.

He knew that the kids' pageant was getting closer when he saw what appeared to be a half-dressed carrot run down the street while he was on patrol the other evening. The carrot was being chased by a very irate looking woman that appeared to be Mrs. VanSicklen from four houses down, confirming his suspicion that the carrot was indeed little Joey VanSicklen.

The night before the pageant, he got to see Lizzy in her completed pumpkin costume. He had to admit that she looked extremely cute in it. It had a little collar of fuzzy green leaves, and a little orange cap with a few felt leaves and vines sewn on that sat on top of her red curls very nicely.

"Do you remember what you have to say, Lizzy?" he asked her.

"I'm a pumpkin. I grow on a vine. At Halloween people make me into jack-o-lanterns," said Lizzy obediently.

"Sounds good to me," said Hogan, not really sure if that was her line or not.

"That's it, alright," said Newkirk, getting up to take the outfit off. "I could probably say it in me sleep at this point."

"You have to admit; it's a very poignant statement. Whoever wrote the script for this is an unknown genius."

x

x

x

The night of the pageant had arrived at last.

Hogan really had no idea what to expect - one of the frazzled looking parents had handed him a program when he walked into the school's quaint auditorium, but he has been too interested observing the crowd around him to look at the pamphlet.

He noticed a very worn out looking Mrs. Stephenson in the front row, so he made his way over and sat down next to her.

"Evening, Mrs. Stephenson," he greeted, sitting down in the nearest vacant seat.

"Oh, good evening. I take it Lizzy is backstage with her father?"

"Yeah. He somehow got roped into being the stage manager at the last minute. Where's Mr. Stephenson?"

"Backstage. He's helping some of the kids fix their costumes. Especially Ida's. That broccoli costume is an absolute nightmare!" said Mrs. Stephenson, a sudden vehement hatred for that particular vegetable cropping up.

Before Hogan could respond, the lights dimmed a bit and a small, bespectacled woman walked out on the stage.

"Good evening, everyone," said the woman, once the audience had quieted down.

"I'm Miss Mina Wilson, and I am proud to have the opportunity to show what your children have been working so hard on. We here at Huntingburg Elementary School would also like to extend our gratitude to all the parents who came out to support the 1947 Preschool Class."

"We appreciate all the hard work that went into the making of all the lovely costumes you will see tonight as well," Miss Wilson continued.

"They'd better," Hogan heard Mrs. Stephenson say under her breath.

"So without further ado, let's begin our pageant."

With that, Miss Wilson exited the stage.

Back when the pageant was still in the vegetable costume planning stage, Hogan recalled thinking that it would be pretty funny to see all the neighborhood four-year-olds dressed like produce. However, as the first kid came out, he realized that he was wrong; this wasn't funny.

This was absolutely hilarious.

He recognized the first kid right away. It was Walter Belknap-Jackson, who had received the coveted role of the squash.

As Squash Walter made his way over to his spot on the stage, Hogan had to bite his tongue to keep himself from laughing at the costume on this poor kid. Obviously, Mrs. Belknap-Jackson was not the most talented seamstress in the land, and the outfit appeared to be a hodgepodge of different yellow fabrics. If he didn't know that this was supposed to be a play about vegetables, he would have mistaken little Walter for a banana slug.

"...I am a squashed," began Walter, rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet. "I am a good source of….of….um…."

"Vitamin A and C!" he heard someone whisper from behind the curtain.

"Vitamin A and P!" finished Walter, looking very proud of himself.

The next kid out was Ida Stephenson, whose broccoli costume looked pretty nice, but lost various parts as she walked across the stage to stand next to Walter.

"I'm broccoli," she stated, looking a bit shell-shocked at the amount of people watching her.

Though she didn't inform them of any interesting broccoli facts, Hogan did learn that this particular vegetable did not have very good public speaking skills and was prone to running off stages, leaving various parts of itself behind.

He saw Mrs. Stephenson rubbing her temples out of the corner of his eye.

Joey VanSicklen, the runaway carrot, did somewhat better, actually staying on the stage for his entire line, although Hogan thought that the phrase "tastes gross" might have been ad-libbed.

The next player was a tomato that Hogan recognized as little Maggie Crosby. Her face was as red as her costume, and it appeared as though it had taken some serious wrangling to get her to stop crying and go out on the stage.

"I'm tomato," she whined. "I grow in all 48 states and most gardens."

When he saw Lizzy come out next, he didn't have the highest of hopes. He did have to admit that, so far, her costume was the nicest. She was the cutest, too, of course.

"I'm a pumpkin. I grow on a vine. At Halloween people make me into jack-o-lanterns," she stated with one of her sweet smiles.

He was impressed. She was calm for the entire rest of the play, even when the turnip (played by little Mary Wells) and the beet (a very disgruntled looking Tommy Petersen) got into a fight over whose turn it was to go out on stage.

Pumpkins were his new favorite vegetable.

x

x

x

He ended up driving home, both Lizzy and Newkirk being worn out from the excitement of the evening. She ended up dozing off in the backseat, still attired in her pumpkin costume. In the front seat, Newkirk looked like he was about to follow suit.

"That went well," Hogan ventured to say.

"Ugh. You weren't back there tryin' to corral ten unruly vegetables for an hour. Blimey, those kids can be fast."

"Did Ida Stephenson calm down?"

"Yeah, as soon as we took off the broccoli suit."

Hogan chuckled, but was silent for most of the car ride home.

"Hey, Newkirk?"

"Yeah?"

"Wanna hear a vegetable joke?"

"...What?"

"Nevermind; it's too corny."


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N** A quick little vignette written while I was supposed to be studying for a statistics midterm. I actually ended up doing really well on the test - maybe I can thank this short tale for providing me with a beneficial reprieve!

x

x

x

"Lizzy, why aren't you eating your spaghetti? You love spaghetti."

The little girl in question didn't answer; she was too busy pushing the pasta around on her bunny plate.

"What? I can cook as good as Newkirk," said Hogan, trying to get a response from his little daughter.

Silence.

"Is it because he had to work late today? He'll be back in an hour, Lizzy."

Silence.

"You know, he'd want you to eat something...do you want something else?"

Silence.

"Lizzy, are you okay?" he asked.

"I'm fine," said Lizzy, twirling some spaghetti around her soft plastic fork. She put it in her mouth and chewed very, very slowly.

He watched as she ate a couple bites like this. He wasn't that bad of a spaghetti-maker, was he?

All of a sudden, he heard a very subtle crunch sound come from Lizzy's direction. He looked over to witness the most terrified expression he'd ever seen cross her face. She dropped her fork and bolted away from the table.

He was up and after her in a split second, but she was somehow quicker than him. Maybe he was getting old.

She ran up the stairs to her room and closed the door, Hogan a few seconds behind her.

"Lizzy, what wrong?" he asked through the door. He didn't get an answer, so he tried opening the door without waiting for a response.

Lizzy was sitting on her bed, her hands covering her mouth.

"Lizzy, what happened?" he ventured to ask again, sitting down next to her on the bed.

He heard her mumble something, but it was completely unintelligible with her hand positioned over her mouth.

"I can't hear you with your hand in front of your mouth," he said, gently reaching up to coax her hand away.

To his alarm, there was blood on her hand and welling up in her mouth.

"I broke myself," he heard her mumble, and then he noticed something. In her hand was a tiny, blood-stained tooth.

"Lizzy, you didn't tell me you had a loose tooth," he said, relieved that it hadn't been anything too serious, but also wondering why things like this always happened when Newkirk wasn't home.

The little girl just sniffled, so he picked her up and carried her to the bathroom where he had her rinse out her mouth and clean off the little tooth.

"I didn't know teeth came out," Lizzy remarked later, looking in the mirror and admiring the small gap she now had in her smile.

"Yup. They're all gonna do it. Though not at once," Hogan told her, handing her the tiny pearl of the tooth that had come out earlier.

She looked at the small object for a few moments before looking back up at him. "What do I do with it?"

"Whatever you want. You know, you could put it under your pillow."

"Why would I want to do that?" she asked, looking at him like he had lost his mind.

"Well, if you put it under your pillow, the tooth fairy comes flying by in her B-17 and leaves you money," explained Hogan.

"Is it the same B-17 that babies come from?" the little girl asked.

"...Yeah, it is," said Hogan, cursing himself for forgetting that he had given her a similar answer when she had asked the one question all parents dread. "It has a lot of functions, the B-17."

"Wow. You know everything, dad."

x

x

x

It turned out that he wasn't the only one who had been teaching her things.

Later on in the afternoon, after Lizzy had calmed down from the excitement of losing her first tooth, she had cajoled him into playing one of her games.

Today she wanted to play Old Maid. Hogan really didn't consider that a very challenging game, and not one that really required any skill, but he managed to lose every time out of the five games they played.

"Let's play something else," he suggested, after losing five games of Old Maid and two of Go Fish.

"Okay," agreed Lizzy, putting her deck of cards away. Hogan thought it was cute that she used one that had bunnies and birds instead of clubs and spades.

The little girl appeared to contemplate what activity she wanted to engage in next for a few moments before speaking.

"I can show you a magic trick," she said.

"Yeah? What is it?"

They had both been sitting on the floor of her room while he had been losing at card games, so she scooted a little closer to him.

"Count how many buttons you have on your shirt while I touch each one," said Lizzy.

"Okay," said Hogan, wondering when this would make sense. After Lizzy had confirmed that there were ten buttons on his shirt, he ventured to ask what the point of this was.

He got his answer when she reached into her sleeve and presented him with...his wallet.


	9. Chapter 9

"Newkirk, have you been teaching Lizzy to pick pockets?"

"My day was lovely, thanks for asking," replied Newkirk as he came through the front door.

"I'm serious," said Hogan, ignoring Newkirk's sarcastic remark.

The Englishman waited to respond until after he finally had a chance to hang up his uniform jacket and hat.

"Why do you ask?"

"Well, let's see, I was playing with Lizzy today, and she showed me a magic trick that has your name written all over it," replied Hogan, pouring himself a cup of coffee. He noticed he had been drinking a lot of the stuff lately.

"She did, did she?" asked Newkirk with a smile, getting a mug for himself.

"Yes. Next thing you know she'll be holding up banks."

"Oh, come off it. She knows not to do it to other people. I only showed 'er some sleight of hand because it was driving her nuts that she couldn't figure out why I could pull so many quarters out from behind 'er ears," said Newkirk, sitting down at the table.

"Are you sure?" asked Hogan, still hesitant.

"Yes. If I'm wrong, you're the Sheriff, not me."

x

x

x

With so much going on in life, it didn't take long for Hogan to quickly forget about Lizzy's new found skill. One of the most pressing concerns that had come up recently was the fact that Lizzy had brought home a two-headed turkey from school.

Alright, so it was a smudged hand-print turkey, but the fact that Lizzy had made one came with much larger implications: Thanksgiving was coming up, and Lizzy was learning about how it was celebrated in school.

What that really meant to Hogan was that this year he couldn't get away with giving her a turkey sandwich as Thanksgiving dinner. He also knew he couldn't count on any help from Newkirk, who was completely ambivalent about the American holiday.

It was in the middle of horrifying thoughts of the oven exploding and sending turkey parts into the stratosphere that the phone rang.

"Hello?"

"Hello?" the voice on the other end of the line answered.

"Who is this?" Hogan asked.

"It's me," answered the voice. Hogan immediately recognized that it belonged to Carter, who always assumed that everyone always knew it was him calling.

"What's going on?" Hogan asked.

"Not much. Hey, do you guys have any plans for Thanksgiving yet?"

"No," answered Hogan truthfully, not willing to disclose his thoughts of flaming poultry.

"Oh, good. 'Cause Lucy thinks it would be nice to have everyone over at our place. Whaddya think?"

"I think she's nuts. Who's 'everyone?'"

"Lemme see. She wanted me to invite you and Newkirk and Lizzy, Kinch is gonna be there, and Angela is going to help with the food, then there's Louis and Violet, the Stephensons, the Baxters, my parents, and everyone's kids. Oh, and she wanted me to make sure Klink and Schultz had someplace to be, too. If not, add them in," replied Carter.

"Huh. Sounds like it's going to be quite the shindig."

"So can we count you in?"

"Of course," replied Hogan, shifting the telephone receiver so he could have both hands free. "What time is this gonna start?"

"Probably around three in the morning," was Carter's response.

"What?"

"That's when I imagine all the cooking is gonna start."

Hogan sighed. "I meant, what time do you want us over by?"

"Oh. Whenever, I guess."

"I'm glad you clarified that for me, Andrew. Tell Lucy I said hi," replied Hogan, hanging up the receiver.

Hogan had never really been one for big social gatherings, but it looked like this was going to be his best option for the holiday. He hadn't celebrated anything really in a long time, now that he thought about it.

He wondered if Lizzy remembered anything about how her family celebrated the holidays, but she had likely been too young. He wanted her to have a memorable Thanksgiving, in a good way, not in a turkey-imploding way.

And anything with Carter's family was certain to be memorable.

x

x

x

Americans were crazy.

Newkirk had come to this conclusion long ago, but it was days like this when he was once again proven correct.

He knew Americans loved gorging themselves on their "Thanksgiving" holiday thing, and that people usually got together and visited and ate and chatted and ate some more. What he had never previously considered was the sheer level of madness that accompanied the celebration.

Of course, he probably should have expected it, especially when Hogan had informed him of Lucy Carter's ever growing guest list, which had expanded to include almost every citizen of the town that didn't have a place to be with friends or family that evening.

When they arrived at the already buzzing residence, he quickly lost track of Lizzy, who had immediately found other little children to play with.

Newkirk was glad that he recognized almost everyone there. He saw Kinch talking to Carter, with neither man's wives in sight. He would occasionally see one of them scurry out of the kitchen and then back in, but his sense of self-preservation told him not to interfere with whatever they were doing.

He was also pretty proud of himself for the fact that he remembered the names of everyone's extremely fast offspring.

There was Ida Stephenson and Lizzy, sitting at a smaller table that was off to the side of the room. He saw that Ida's older sister Inez was also there, looking rather like she hoped this would be her last year being relegated to the kid's table.

Around the house ran Felix Carter, who, thankfully, had just gotten past the "nudist" stage and had consented to keep his clothing on for the evening. He was joined by his younger siblings Andy and Flora, as well as Josie and Emil LeBeau, who were only a little younger.

There were only three kids that were too young to join in. The first was little Tony Kinchloe, who was being watched by his father while his mother did things in the kitchen. Newkirk had overheard words like "basting" and knew he was wise to stay away.

The other two were the newest additions to the Carter brood - twins. Newkirk fondly remembered visiting his old friend a few days after the little bundles of joy had arrived. Lucy was as unruffled as ever, up and about, simultaneously cooking and writing a newspaper article that was due the next day as if she hadn't just spent fourteen hours in labor.

What he remembered most distinctly was when Carter had told him that they had decided to name their newest additions after his great-grandparents, and introduced him to Red Arrow That Flies Swiftly Through Forest Elizabeth Carter and Running Deer That Outwits Many Hunters George Carter.

Americans were crazy.

Newkirk was immediately jolted back to the present by something crashing into his leg. He looked down to see that it was Lizzy, who had been gleefully running around with her comrades, and had suddenly been struck with the urge to give him a hug from her low vantage point.

"Having fun, love?" he asked, fondly looking down at her wrapped around his legs.

"Yeah," she answered, with her usual sweet little smile. "Guess who's here!"

"Who?"

"Miss Wilson! And also a bald guy," said Lizzy, disengaging from her father's legs and sprinting off once more.

Lizzy's brief explanation was all Newkirk needed to know who had arrived, since only one person that had been on Carter's crazy wife's guest list matched that description.

His intuition proved to be correct when he saw Mina Wilson and Wilhelm Klink come through the door. They had obviously not come together, but had nonetheless ended up arriving at the same time.

Newkirk noticed that Klink was being his usual overly polite self, and was helping Miss Wilson with her hat and coat. However, unlike all the other women he had seen him with, Miss Wilson actually seemed flattered by the attention.

Before he had a chance to worry about having to be awkward with saying hello to the newest arrivals, he felt someone whizz past him. He recognized the blur as Lucy, who was quick to embrace both of her newest guests.

"I'm so glad you could make it," said Lucy, taking both their coats from Klink and putting them in the closet. "Now that everyone's here, we can set the table and start dinner."

At Lucy's statement, everyone began to make their way into the dining room, the table in which was already heaped with all sorts of food.

Newkirk ended up sitting next to Hogan and, to his surprise, Klink and Miss Wilson when it came time to eat. He chose an advantageous spot at the table from which he could keep an eye on Lizzy and the other children who were sitting at a smaller table that was set with much less breakable dining ware than the heirloom china the adults were eating off of. However, he didn't rule out the possibility that something would end up getting broken just from having that many kids within five feet of something delicate.

Dinner wasn't as awkward as he had imagined. Everyone's kids were surprisingly well behaved, and he imagined it was because they had all worked up quite an appetite from all the running around they had been doing.

The sheer amount of people present made it so he wasn't stuck with one conversation partner for very long, which was good, because he had nothing in common with Klink, Mina Wilson, or Mr. Stephenson, who was the next closest person to him. He noticed that Hogan seemed equally relieved, content to watch the world go by from the table.

There was Lizzy, who was giggling about something with Ida at their little table, Klink attempting to appear worldly and Miss Wilson actually seeming to believe it, Lucy and Angela running back and forth to the kitchen, Carter carrying one of his offspring out every half hour for a diaper change, and Kinch and LeBeau attempting to help their significant others with the alarming amount of dishes that was beginning to pile up.

Despite the noise of clattering dishes and the buzz of innumerable conversations, it was very peaceful to watch everyone enjoying life and one another's company.

Perhaps Americans weren't so crazy after all.

x

x

x

Newkirk was glad he wasn't the one driving home that night. He (as well as everyone else) had eaten more food than he thought existed in the entire world, and all he wanted to do was curl up for the next hundred years and digest.

Despite the short amount of time it took to get from Carter's house to back home, Newkirk had already began to doze off.

He was jolted out of his approaching slumber by the sound of Hogan's voice.

"Did you have a nice night, Lizzy?"

"Yeah. That was great!" came the response from the back seat.

"Glad to hear it," Newkirk heard Hogan respond.

Lizzy was quiet for a few moments before she spoke again.

"I think Miss Wilson's gonna get married to that bald guy," she stated.

"What makes you think that?" asked Newkirk, feeling more awake.

"Well, she's not married," answered Lizzy.

"And?" prompted Hogan.

"And he isn't either," she added, as if this made her point perfectly clear and they were complete morons for not seeing it too.

"But why do you think they'd get married?" asked Newkirk, curious as to why Lizzy was so adamant.

"He made Miss Wilson smile. She doesn't do that very often," was the little girl's' response.

Newkirk was always surprised by how insightful Lizzy could be sometimes. Suddenly, a thought struck him.

"Lizzy, how did you know that Klink's not married?"

"He didn't have any pictures of a lady or kids in his wallet."


	10. Chapter 10

Lizzy had a favorite everything.

Her favorite food was spaghetti.

Her favorite thing to drink was tea with honey.

Her favorite color was pink.

Her favorite dress was the pink one with the bunny pattern that had a little pocket in the front where she kept candy she wasn't supposed to have and didn't think he knew about.

Her favorite flowers were dandelions, specifically the ones she had planted in the window boxes after painstakingly collecting the seeds from every weed in the lawn.

Her favorite storybook was _Army Regulation Manual,_ which he had a feeling she really didn't understand but asked him to read nonetheless.

And, without a doubt, her favorite word was "love." She loved everything, and told everything and everyone so. Schultzie was affirmed of her affection for him multiple times a day, as was Bruno, her stuffed toys, the squirrel that ran across their lawn every morning, the dandelions in the window boxes, the mailman, the milkman, and, of course, Newkirk.

He was her favorite person.

And Hogan was totally okay with that.

Okay, but it did bother him a little that she had never actually told him she loved him.

And it bothered him that he was bothered by this. She clearly didn't hate him - she was always so happy to help him attempt to cook something, or read something with him, or wheedle him into playing dolls or tea party with her.

She was always happy around him, just like she was with everyone else.

So he wasn't going to let it bother him.

Much.

x

x

x

The next time he had to watch Lizzy was the next night. Newkirk was in Cleveland doing some counterfeit detection method seminar thing he vaguely remembered him telling him about, and he was once again the sole adult in charge of the little girl.

The afternoon and evening had gone smoothly enough.

He had been doing some paperwork in his office after working from home that day and had seen Lizzy coming home from school with the Stephenson girls out his window.

She ran up the driveway and greeted him with a big smile and a bigger hug like she usually did. Lizzy was often sent home with a few simple lines to write to practice her spelling and handwriting, so he set her up at the kitchen table with a pencil and her usual cup of tea with honey.

For himself, it was a cup of coffee and the evening copy of the _Huntingburg Post-Express_.

He was halfway through reading one of the articles _("50 Creative Uses for Aluminum Foil"),_ when Lizzy piped up with a question.

"Dad, why do I have to know how to spell "bog?"

"I don't know. That word rarely comes up in conversations," replied Hogan, looking up from the newspaper.

Lizzy seemed to accept the fact that she might never know the true reason for such a word making its way onto her spelling list, and went back to writing her letters.

She was silent for the rest of her homework, save for the little tune she usually hummed whenever she was content. It was always the same tune, and neither Hogan nor Newkirk had been able to pin down what the song was yet.

Before long, she was done with her little assignment and informing him that it was getting close to the time that she was usually fed.

Despite the fact that Hogan had astoundingly bad luck when it came to cooking, he wasn't completely inept. Although, there was that one time he left oven mitts in the oven and forget about them before he turned it on…

Anyway, he was pretty good at heating up soup on the stove, so he proposed that that would be what they would have for dinner. He was glad Lizzy seemed to have a very strong sense of self-preservation and agreed.

Hogan was rummaging around one of the cabinets, looking for a good sized pot to put some kind of soup in. Despite his lack of finesse in the kitchen department, he was able to find one that looked about right.

He had just turned around to put the pot on the stove, when he noticed that Lizzy had disappeared from the table. Before he could call out to ask where she had gone to, he heard the familiar sound of her footsteps in her room upstairs. She had probably gone up to tell Schultzie she was home, and doubtlessly that she loved him.

After he had poured something in the pot from the icebox that looked like soup, he went back to the table to his paper and coffee. He was surprised to find that his coffee mug was empty. That was odd - he was pretty sure that he hadn't drank all of it before he'd gotten up earlier.

Oh, well. Maybe he was already getting old and losing his memory.

It was only a few minutes later that he heard a crashing sound, followed by something streaking past him at light speed.

His problem solving skills hadn't deteriorated that much since the war, and it didn't take him long to put two and two together.

Before he had time to react, the blur came streaking back again. This time, he was prepared, and managed to grab it.

"Lizzy, what are you doing?" he asked the blur.

"Running, dad, running!" she replied. She actually appeared to be vibrating in place.

"Did you drink what was in my cup?"

"Yup. Yeah, I did! It wasn't very good, but since you like it, I like it!"

At this, Lizzy took off running again. Bruno, who had been asleep on the kitchen floor, lifted his head to watch the little girl sprint off.

The next time Lizzy came streaking through the kitchen, Hogan managed to detain her once again.

"Are you okay, Lizzy? Do you feel alright?" he asked. He didn't think his coffee was that strong, but Lizzy had never had caffeine before, and she was way smaller than him, too. Ugh, Newkirk was going to kill him.

"I feel great! Why don't you run, too? You drank some coffee! Just like I drank coffee!"

With a giggle, she was off again.

This was going to be a long night.

x

x

x

Luckily for Hogan, the small amount of coffee that had briefly energized Lizzy soon wore off. In fact, her short burst of energy had only lasted as long as it had taken for the soup to heat up. Hogan eventually found her half asleep in his armchair, Bruno sitting at her feet.

"Lizzy...are you alright?" he ventured to ask, coming over with two mismatched bowls of soup.

"Mm fine," was the response he got, followed by a yawn.

"Are you still hungry?" he asked, not wanting to add possible starvation to this list of things Newkirk could kill him for.

"Yeah," answered Lizzy, sitting up.

"We can eat here in the living room," suggested Hogan, not wanting to tire her out any more. He had counted 24 laps around the house before the coffee had worn off.

"Okay," yawned Lizzy, happily accepting the soup that was in her little plastic bunny rabbit dish.

Their meal was eaten mainly in silence, until Lizzy spoke up.

"I'm sorry I drank your coffee, dad," she said tiredly, as she put her bowl down on the side table and settled back into the chair.

"Oh, Lizzy...I'm the one that should be sorry. I'm sorry I didn't tell you that coffee wasn't good for you to drink," said Hogan, feeling like Bad Dad of the Year.

His apology, however, fell on deaf ears. Lizzy had fallen asleep in his chair.

With a sigh, Hogan walked got up and collected the dinner dishes. After washing them and putting them away, he came back, and Lizzy was still out cold in the chair.

Not knowing what else to do, he decided to carry her upstairs and put her in her bed. At least she would be more comfortable there.

Halfway up the stairs, the little girl in his arms began to stir.

"Did I fall asleep?" she asked, blinking up at him.

"Yup. You were out like a light," said Hogan, using his knee to push her door open.

"Oh." Lizzy didn't say anything until Hogan had gently put her down on her bed. She gave another big yawn and turned to look up at him.

"Goodnight, dad."

"Night, Lizzy."

"Tell daddy I said goodnight," she whispered, eyes closing once more, "and tell him I love him."

As Hogan turned to leave, his thoughts drifted to his ruminations from earlier in the week on how easily Lizzy affirmed those around her of her affections. He decided to try something.

"...Lizzy?"

"Mmm?"

"...I love you."

"Love you, too, dad. Night."

And then she was fast asleep.


	11. Chapter 11

"Daddy!"

Newkirk, who had been fiddling around under the kitchen sink, trying to fix the leaky plumbing, jumped at Lizzy's call, immediately hitting his head on some protruding apparatus.

"Ow! Ugh, Lizzy, what is is?" he asked, emerging from the Land of Leaky Pipes.

"Guess what!" asked Lizzy, bursting into the room. "Oh, are you busy?" she asked, seeing him sitting on the floor, rubbing his head.

"Not anymore. What's all the fuss about, love?"

"Look what I found!"

It was the first time Newkirk noticed that Lizzy had had her hands behind her back since she had entered the room, and she quickly brought something from behind her back to show him.

In her hand was a tiny, fluffy yellow chick.

"What...where in the world did you find that?" asked Newkirk, getting up.

"On the ground outside. Can I keep him, daddy? Please?" she asked, looking up at him with her big eyes.

He was toast.

"Well...does he belong to someone?" Newkirk asked. What kind of question was that? No one in the neighborhood owned chickens, so why in the world would there be a chick wandering around?

"I don't think so. He was out by the mailbox all alone," said Lizzy, petting the tiny creature's head. It let out a peep. "I think he fell off one of those farm trucks that go by sometimes."

"I...don't know Lizzy...it's going to grow up into a chicken," said Newkirk, looking down at the fluffy thing looking completely at ease in his daughter's hands.

"So? I love birds," said Lizzy, bringing the little animal close to her chest.

"So does Schultzie, but not in the same way," he countered.

"Daddy, Schultzie was fine when we bird-sat Inez Stephenson's parakeet," said Lizzy.

This girl was good.

"Let's wait until your dad gets home."

x

x

x

"She found a _what_?"

"A chick. You know, like a baby chicken?"

"I know what a chick is, Newkirk, it's just the fact that she found one that surprises me. Actually, it doesn't surprise me at all. If anyone is going to find a baby chicken by their mailbox, it would be Lizzy," said Hogan, sitting down at the table with a cup of coffee.

"She wants to keep it."

"Naturally. And I suppose you told her it was alright?"

"I told her we would wait until you got home."

"Very democratic of you. Well, I think it's fine," said Hogan, flipping through the newspaper that was on the table.

"You do?"

"Yeah, why not? My family always kept a couple of chickens around when I was growing up," said Hogan, looking nowhere as displeased as Newkirk hoped he would.

Newkirk sighed. "I guess I'll go tell her she can keep 'im."

"I can keep him?"

Neither men had noticed Lizzy and the small fuzzy animal in question hovering by the doorway of the kitchen until she had spoke.

"Yeah, Liz, he's all yours," said Newkirk, who couldn't help smiling when he saw how much Lizzy's face lit up at the news. "But you're responsible for taking care of 'im, makin' a little chicken house and such."

"Okay, daddy! I'm so glad he can stay! I even picked out a name already. This is Little Sweetie!"

x

x

x

Little Sweetie did not like Newkirk.

The animal had somehow made itself a housepet, which was fine when Little Sweetie was little and lived in a box in Lizzy's room.

Now, the creature had fully feathered, and, pun heavily intended, thought it ruled the roost.

Little Sweetie (who turned out to be a lady chicken) would perch herself in all sorts in inconvenient places: on the sink, on Newkirk's bed frame, on his chair, on his desk, even on Bruno.

Whenever he tried to make the chicken shoo, he was awarded with a dirty look and complete insubordination from the animal.

He knew Little Sweetie loved Lizzy. He even had to admit, it was really cute to see Lizzy sitting at the table, either eating or coloring or doing homework, and the chicken would always perch itself on a chair near her, Schultzie and Bruno not far away. In fact, he had even secretly taken a photo of the foursome together, and it was indeed remarkably sweet.

But it remained that Little Sweetie roundly disliked him.

It wasn't even his fault, really. Sure, he made a few jokes about her being tomorrow night's dinner, but really, the chicken should learn to lighten up. And it's not like he got in her way. In fact, Newkirk practically jumped through hoops to avoid the animal, yet she still showed up in his closet, on his bed, and once, in his clothes drawer. Needless to say, much laundry had to be done that day.

He was surprised that Hogan wasn't bothered by the fact that he was sharing his house with a rude chicken, but maybe Hogan was just better at avoiding Little Sweetie than he was.

But it always came back to the fact that Lizzy loved Little Sweetie, and that always made pulling feathers out of the washing machine less of an annoying task.

x

x

x

"Daddy, have you seen Little Sweetie?"

"Why don't you check my closet. She's always in there," said Newkirk, who was sitting at the kitchen table.

Lizzy had come down the stairs to ask him the whereabouts of her pet, and it was only a few moments later that heard her shout "I found her!" from upstairs.

Good. The last thing he needed right now was a missing chicken. He had much more important things to think about, namely, what to get Lizzy for her upcoming birthday. It seemed like she had an awful lot of those, and they seemed to be coming quicker and quicker every year.

Besides the fact that she was growing up right before his eyes, the fact that Lizzy was getting older meant something else: once again, he had to pick out a present that she would like.

It wasn't as though Lizzy was hard to shop for. She knew what she liked, and so did he. It was just finding something that would prove he knew everything about her and that she was special that was the hard part.

Although, this year, he felt like he had a bit of a leg up on what to get. Ida Stephenson had gotten a bike for Christmas, and he knew that soon she would be learning to ride it. So he figured it was time for Lizzy to get her first bike.

She was a pro on the tricycle already, but her legs seemed to be getting longer every day, and soon her faithful little trike would be outgrown all together.

x

x

x

It was this procession of events that led to Newkirk being awake at 2:30 in the morning, bike parts scattered everywhere, and for once having forsook his beloved cup of tea for the coffee he needed to get himself through this ordeal.

Hogan, to his credit, had only given up two hours ago, leaving Newkirk to the task of assembling the bike all by himself.

Newkirk was currently in the guest bedroom of the house, the closet of said room having been the only space he was certain he could hide the unassembled bike so Lizzy wouldn't see it before her rapidly approaching birthday.

Although, now that he thought about it, she probably wouldn't even know what in the world all these pieces were supposed to be, because he was having a hard time believing that they were going to turn into a bicycle, himself.

He was on the verge of a breakthrough (or a breakdown…) when he realized that Screw A was missing, and that was why he was having such a hard time getting Piece Q to fit with Lever R.

A quick check of the closet where the bike in its unassembled form had been stashed revealed Screw A on the floor, with none other than Little Sweetie perched on a box behind it.

Newkirk reached for the screw on the floor, aware his actions were being observed by a chicken looking down at him.

Normally, he would gingerly pick up Lizzy's poultry friend and remove her from the premises, but Little Sweetie had a habit of making a loud _flapflapflapflapflapflap_ with her wings whenever he picked her up, and he couldn't risk having the bird wake anybody up.

"I guess you can stay," he whispered to the chicken, who looked down at him contemptuously.

He was almost finished with the bike assembly when he heard a dull _thump_ come from the closet. In a few moments, Little Sweetie trotted out from the closet and stood in front of him, an unreadable expression on her little chicken face.

"Well, what?" asked Newkirk, realizing that it must be later than he thought if he was talking to a chicken.

To his relief, the bird didn't answer him, but merely began to preen itself contentedly, letting Newkirk turn back to the bike.

When he had finally finished, triumphantly, he turned to Little Sweetie, his only audience.

"Well, what do you think? Think Lizzy'll like it?"

Little Sweetie looked up from preening her soft, tan feathers to give him another one of her mysterious chicken looks.

"Well, I certainly 'ope she will," said Newkirk, putting away the various tools he had used to put together a bike that would have probably perplexed even the most intrepid of engineers.

Little Sweetie gave what appeared to be a yawn, as if to remind him that it was time to go to bed.

Newkirk sighed. "I guess you're right, chicken. Time for lights-out."

Little Sweetie seemed to agree; the animal briskly trotted off, most likely headed towards her nest box in Lizzy's room.

"Maybe the bird's not half bad…" he muttered to himself as he cleaned up the rest of what was left from the grueling bike assembly.

His feelings would be softened further when he found a small, smooth, brown egg on his pillow the next morning.


	12. Chapter 12

"You're not going to let go, right, Daddy?" came the small, unsure voice of a heavily helmeted and padded Lizzy.

"Uhh…"

Well, that had been Newkirk's plan when teaching his daughter to ride a bike. He'd heard that that was how Carter had taught his oldest son, and it had worked like a charm, so long as the kid didn't catch on that you'd let go until they were on their own. However, the whole trick rested on the kid not knowing, but somewhere along the lines someone had let that bit of top-secret parent information slip.

"Cause Mr. Stephenson let go when Ida was learning to ride her bike, and she crashed into a tree," elaborated Lizzy.

"Oh my. Well, love, I'll try my best to keep you from hittin' any trees," said Newkirk, looking down at how tightly Lizzy was gripping the handlebars of her new bike, which was only recently sans-training wheels.

Lizzy, it turned out, was very nervous when it came to certain new things. She was fearless in the food department, and would go anywhere, but things like rollerskates and bikes seemed to frighten the poor kid. Thought, with the amount of padding on the girl, Newkirk didn't think she had anything to be worried about.

It was Hogan who had outfitted her with the old air raid helmet, elbow pads, knee pads, shin guards, gloves, and tied two pillows around her middle. It was only after being so outfitted that she agreed to clamber on her bike, but the expression on her face was similar to one she might have worn had she just climbed on a rodeo bull.

"Promise?" asked the heavily padded girl, looking up at him.

"Yes. Now why don't you try takin' your feet off the ground and putting them on the pedals," he encouraged.

With a big breath, Lizzy followed his instructions, taking her feet off the comforting solidness of the ground and balancing on bike he was holding. It was only a couple of seconds later that her feet came off the pedals, and they were soon firmly planted on the ground once more.

"There. I had my feet on the pedals. Are we done for the day, daddy?"

Newkirk sighed. This was going to be a long afternoon.

x

x

x

When Hogan got back from the station that day, he would have almost swore that he had returned to the base of a defeated army. Both Newkirk and Lizzy looked extremely worn out, the former more so than the latter.

"Blimey, I spent the whole day running behind her while she got the hang of that thing. I've never seen a kid more afraid of fallin' off a bike," Newkirk had elaborated to him later in the day.

Hogan didn't say anything while Newkirk filled him in on his grueling day as a bike instructor, but but the end of the monologue, he decided to speak up.

"You should be glad she wants you to hang on. Before you know it, she won't want our help any more," he said, leaning back in the kitchen chair he was currently occupying.

Newkirk seemed to ponder this for a while before letting out a sigh.

"I guess you're right," he said after a while, staring distantly into his cup of tea.

"Yeah, I am. Just wait until you're teaching her to drive or cleaning one of your guns when she brings home her first boyfriend. You'll probably be wishing you were teaching her to ride a bike then," Hogan said further, getting up and putting his mug in the sink.

Newkirk mumbled something in agreement as the other man left and went off to bed.

Suddenly, various scene began to play out in his head.

Lizzy, all grown up, learning to drive, learning to sew, cook, not needing him there to constantly check up on her, adjust her clothes, tie her shoes, put her to bed...before he knew it she would be off on her own, doing who knows what...she would probably get married, have a family of her own…

Hogan was right. He was going to hold on as long as he could.

* * *

So, this short (sorry!) chapter is the last one for this story. But don't worry - there is a sequel to it coming soon.


End file.
